


Small Favours

by jericho



Category: Blur
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hate summaries. Um...a friendship strained and tested by loneliness and the pain of human contact. Aha! There you go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Favours

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2004. It takes place in the late 1990s. It's pretty embarrassing now.

It got to the point where Dave didn't have to check to see who it was when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He'd sense precise stares in his direction, loaded glances, coffee coloured eyes burning invisible patterns over his body, and he knew who it was. He wasn't sure where it came from, or when exactly the way Alex looked at him had changed, but he felt it, as thick as any instinct he'd ever had.   
  
"Daaave," Alex said, leaning over the desk where Dave sat, and Alex's chest pushed the laptop closed a little. "Let's go outdoors, yeah? It's a beautiful day out there."  
  
He wasn't sure when Alex had started needing him to come along every time he wanted to do something, either. He looked out the window anyway, and the sun was shining brightly, making the leaves on the trees seem plastic and luminous. He could already smell the warmth, feel the sun beating on his shoulders, and it was supposed to be November. Where had the sun come from?  
  
The years had chipped away at Dave's impatience, and now he couldn't be bothered with it. Instead he gave Alex a long look. "Go on then."  
  
"Let's go chuck rocks at stray cats," Alex said. "Or run to the top of the hill singing Sound of Music songs." Alex had gone through a period where he seemed to gain his baby fat 30 years after the fact, but that was gone. The extra weight had melted away, and his bone-sharp features were accentuated by carefully trimmed facial hair. There was a fine dust of it around his square jaw, cheekbones poking out over top of it as if to remind the world who he was, and the grin was blinding and contagious. Dave couldn't say no.  
  
"Yeah, all right." The laptop closed and before he even put on his jacket, the anxiety started.   
  
There wasn't much to do outside. Dave knew this. The back door area was littered with equipment that could be temporarily exposed to the elements - boxes of notebooks not yet brought inside, a large amplifier waiting for one of the sound guys to come carry it into the house. Alex tapped his knuckles against the amp, as if he needed to touch everything to make sure it was real. Dave followed him, sloping green landscape laid out in front of them. "Where're we going?"  
  
"You'll see." Alex's long legs reminded Dave of scissors as they carried him over the grass, Dave following obediently, maybe as a watchdog. There were bushes of fuchsia at the back of the lot, flowers Dave had temporarily thought of snipping and taking back to his wife, but the idea seemed a bit too fey for him, and they'd wilt on the drive back to London. He wasn't much for flowers or beauty, but he recognized when someone else might be.  
  
Around the bushes. A random cow stood off in the distance, on a lot owned by another Devon stranger. It was something to pick out of the sprawl of mediocrity, and Alex noticed it, too. "I wonder what they think of all day," Alex said.  
  
"Dunno." Dave knew it was rhetorical. Sometimes Alex just needed an audience. He barely got the word out before he smelled Alex behind him, aftershave and nicotine and fresh laundry. The hand planted itself on Dave's shoulder and spun him 90 degrees, and before Dave had a chance to react, Alex's lips were on his, a hard closed-mouth kiss. Another attempt, too determined to be sexual.   
  
"Whoa," Dave said, stepping backward. His hand rested on Alex's chest, forceful but friendly. "You've got to stop doing that."  
  
Alex's brow furrowed and his eyes darted away and rested skittishly at some point off in the distance. "Sorry," he said, sounding as if it was an afterthought.   
  
"It's all right," Dave said. Discomfort loomed heavily in the air, and the sun seemed to hum in the silence. A gust of wind rattled the leaves on the bushes and ruffled Alex's hair, and it was all Dave could stand to see before he had to look away. "Just..." he tried, then faltered, then tried again. "Is that what you wanted to do back here?"  
  
"Pretty much." Alex laughed a bit, confidence regained.   
  
"Oh. Well." There wasn't much more to say to that, was there? Tension.   
  
Alex nodded and grabbed a stick from the ground, gently poking Dave's stomach with it. "En garde."  
  
"You have a light saber." It was lame, but it was better than nothing. "You dragged me away from my questions for this?"  
  
Alex shrugged. "Go back to it then. I'm going to go see a man about a horse."  
  
And with that, Alex was off, scissor legs moving back over the grass, Dave following stupidly. Inside, Alex headed off in the direction he'd come from. Dave sat in front of the computer again, fingers tapping against the desk, searching in vain for where he'd left off.  
  
He didn't see Alex again until the sun went down, the air stale and quiet and the whistling from the wind thumping against the house. They were country sounds, more sedate and relaxing than traffic or honking horns. Dave took his time brushing his teeth, enjoying the little snapping sounds the dental floss made when he forced a strand of it around his molars. Flannel pyjama bottoms. His only regret was that Paola wasn't there. It had always been something he'd had in mind, a little cottage in a place like this. The English countryside was littered with escapes from the every day grind, places with miles of nothing but scenery and sheep and the occasional pub serving a good shepherd's pie.   
  
He tossed the strand of dental floss in the waste basket and padded barefoot down the hall. They had the heat cranked up a notch past what it needed to be, and it made Dave feel sleepy and comfortable. Alex's door was open enough for Dave to see the glow of a lamp, and he rested his knuckles against the door and slowly pushed it open.  
  
Alex was propped up on the pillows, a dog eared copy of _The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing_ held in one hand while the other held a smouldering cigarette. "Dave. Come in and see me."   
  
Dave hovered, wondering what he was doing in there in the first place. He'd felt uncomfortable lately, strangely apologetic, like there was something here that needed to be fixed, even though nothing with him and Alex ever got too intense. Alex didn't look up from the book until Dave was halfway across the room.  
  
Alex rested the book on the bed beside him, face down with the spine creased and no bookmark. "Come here," he said, sitting up a bit. "I've got something to show you."  
  
Dave came closer, stopping when he was right in front of Alex and could see the golden glow cast across Alex's face, and how it made everything look warm and lovely. "What?" Alex patted the bed in reply and Dave sat down obediently. After today, just being that close made Dave's insides twitch with nervousness. But that was ridiculous. This was Alex, one of his best mates. He and Alex had flown all over Europe together, just the two of them in a metal airplane filled with maps and cigarette smoke. He felt as comfortable with Alex as he did with someone he shared a home with and had been married to for seven years. There was mutual respect and mature sensibility between them, and just because Alex tried to kiss everything that breathed didn't mean Dave had any reason to feel uneasy.  
  
"What?" Dave said again, this time with less conviction. Alex's eyes narrowed, and Dave shifted a little from the scrutiny. Alex's physical beauty was staggering in this light, in this climate, in the almost balmy warmth of the room. It would have been enough to take the breath away from the straightest guy. It had an odd and blatant androgyny to it, the curve of his lips, the shadow of his brow over those deep, overcast eyes. Dave didn't even notice that he was staring until Alex's hand moved, and the pad of Alex's thumb moved its way across Dave's cheek, stopping at his ear as Alex's fingertips rested on Dave's neck, pulling him closer. He felt his body tip forward, and then Alex's lips were on his, broad and full and barely grazing Dave's.   
  
Dave's eyelids drooped, mouth falling slack just long enough for Alex to make it a full kiss, and then his sanity came rushing back. "Alex." He pulled away, taking a deep breath as he did it.   
  
He expected Alex to apologize, but he didn't. He just narrowed his eyes at Dave again, determined or pissed off or just sizing up the situation. "Dave. You've shagged me before."  
  
"Before is a long time ago." Dave tried to laugh a little, hoping that standing up would shake some of the tension out of the situation. "Why do you want to do it so badly, anyway? Go shag Damon."  
  
Alex shrugged, eyes dropping to his lap, then over to his book. He picked it up and held it in his left hand again, thumb holding his page open. "Because it's different," was all he said, opening the book in his lap but not reading it yet. "It's just different."   
  
Now that he was a safe distance away, standing at the foot of the bed, Dave watched as Alex sunk back into the pile of pillows, readying the book in reading position. Alex butted out the remainder of the burned-out cigarette, and reached for his pack to light another one.   
  
"Do you miss Graham?" Dave asked. "Justine?" In any other mood, these would have been stupid questions. Alex and Damon, the remaining two members of Dave's band, never needed a reason to have sex with someone. They'd copped off in the hospitality lounge backstage, in random hotel rooms, in the beds of strange women they'd never see again. There had been a period during their Brit pop days where Damon, Graham and Alex had sex with each other weekly, mixing and matching like trading cards. But the question was why now, and why with such determination, and why with the band member who had, save for one time, always stayed a safe distance from it.  
  
"Don't psychoanalyze me," Alex said lightly, smiling around the unlit cigarette in his mouth. "I just think it'd be fun, that's all."  
  
Dave wanted to say "no" or "I can't," but it felt redundant at this point. "G'night, Al," he said, as casually as possible. He left Alex the way he'd found him, but shut the door behind him until it closed all the way. Heading back down the hall, he felt a little numb, like he'd just seen a car accident. Lying in bed waiting for sleep to come, it was impossible to get out of his mind.  
  
***  
  
Dave wasn't sure what his dream was about. He deciphered a party, his wife naked behind a long table covered with a white paper tablecloth, serving him a glass of punch twice as large as anyone else's. And a mouth was on his dick, hot and wet and the head of it touching the back of someone's throat. The mouth moved in a slow circular motion as it sucked, the sensations from it sending little spasms through Dave's body. He groaned, squirming helplessly, knowing it was a dream and that he probably wouldn't come, even though he needed to. It was too good. It gave him that deep, melting longing of any erotic dream, the sense that his mind was giving him something gorgeous, and there was nothing to do but revel in it and hope it lasted. All of Dave's dreams had this sensibility to them now. He'd long passed the point where he got lost in them and thought they were real. Even in deep sleep and the midst of a nightmare, Dave approached them with the practical knowledge that they were only dreams, and that they would be over before he knew it.  
  
He reached down and caught a handful of hair, straight and short and slightly coarse. His eyes opened slowly. The dark ceiling hovered in the distance, and the wind from outside made the window tremble. The dream lifted like a fog, and the feeling was still there.  
  
He gulped in some air, noticing when it was cool against his tongue that his mouth was dry. Realization crept in slowly. Normally he'd be alarmed enough to push the person away, maybe even with an elbow to the jaw, but for whatever reason, he wasn't surprised.  
  
He lifted his head and saw what he knew he'd see - Alex, still wearing his T-shirt and boxers, eyes closed and mouth working with graceful fluidity. It had been so long since Dave had been touched by anyone but his wife that it made him feel uncertain and exposed, a foreign sensation that hovered for a few seconds before Alex did something glorious with his tongue, and Dave had no choice but to melt into the mattress again.   
  
He let go of Alex's hair, and his hand hovered there, weak and unsteady. His orgasm came in a sinister rush. His heart pounded in his ears, and his body strained so hard he felt like a string being pulled tight. "Christ." A gasp and a shudder, and Alex was the only one of them prepared for it.  
  
A few seconds of frantic bliss, of coming before he even knew what was happening, and then a pause. Alex pushed himself away from Dave's hips and sat back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. Two more blinks and Dave was fully awake, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. His voice came out at normal volume and it was like shattering glass. "What the fuck, Alex?"  
  
Dave could tell from the look on Alex's face that it wasn't the reaction Alex had anticipated. Dave wondered what Alex thought he'd get. Dave's head spun momentarily when he sat up, but new emotions were driving him now.   
  
"What the fuck?" Dave repeated. "I wouldn't fuck you so you thought it would be all right to come in here and blow me while I was sleeping? What the fuck's gotten into you?"  
  
"I knew you'd wake up," Alex said meekly, moving backward until he stood at the foot of the bed.   
  
"Jesus Christ," Dave said, and then, even louder, "Jesus Christ!"   
  
"Sorry...."  
  
"For fuck sakes, Alex, I'm fucking married!" Dave pulled his pyjamas back into place, fastening the button and sitting up again. "You can't take someone not fancying you so you have to fucking pester them until they do?"  
  
Alex moved toward the door, perhaps remembering what Dave used to be like when he raised his voice, when Dave was drunk more often than not and the 80s anarchist punk aggression came out in the form of a punch in the face. But Dave didn't want to hit him now. He just wanted to scream. "I'm going," Alex said quickly, and before Dave had a chance to say anything else, Alex slipped out the door.  
  
Dave lay back in bed again, fuming silently. The gears in his brain strained and grinded, trying to find a way to reconcile this. He spent the rest of the night lying in the quiet, wind sounding as if it wanted to get in, as far from sleep as he'd ever been.  
  
***  
  
Breakfast the next morning was toast being passed and buttered without a word, the sizzle of eggs in the frying pan the only conversation. Dave grabbed one of the napkins and sat back in chair, dabbing it against his glasses, not because they were dirty but because he wanted something to keep him occupied. Alex kept the book in front of him, but the way he occasionally looked at it was so haphazard that Dave knew he wasn't reading it. Damon tore off a piece of his toast and chewed it, eyes large as he looked from one to the other. "All right, then?"  
  
"Yeah," Dave answered, resting his glasses on his nose and mopping up his runny eggs with his toast. He felt Alex looking at him, but by the time he looked over, Alex had gone back to staring at the plate. Dave was still pissed off, the kind of pissed off where he hoped Alex could feel it across the table, but it had morphed into more of a muted frustration. He didn't want revenge, just answers.  
  
"I have to..." Alex didn't finish the sentence, just pushed his chair back and stood. His scissor legs carried him across the room, and Dave heard him bound up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  
  
Damon looked at the only remaining one in the room, chewing thoughtfully. "What the fuck's going on with you two lately?"  
  
"Nothing." Dave smiled a little.  
  
Damon shrugged and stood, leaving his plate on the table and heading in the direction of the mixing room. Dave got up and carefully grabbed the dirty plates, balancing them in his hands as he carried them to the sink and rinsed them off.  
  
The upstairs was bright, sun streaming in the windows and painting light grey shadows on the white carpet. Dave stopped outside of Alex's room and found the door closed all the way, no noise inside. He turned the doorknob slowly and peeked in, not even sure if Alex was there. But he was, sitting cross-legged on the bed, his head in his hands and the unread book propped open in front of him.  
  
He didn't look up when Dave came in, but Dave saw his shoulders tense. Dave wondered what would be appropriate to say here. _What the fuck's the matter with you?_ No. _We should talk?_ Maybe. He inched across the room, and Alex bowed his head even more, fingers brushing his hair forward like he didn't want Dave to see his face, as if he still had a fringe to hide behind. The movement was endearing, like a frantic grasp at the past, and any remaining anger Dave had crumbled.  
  
Alex sucked in a deep breath. "I'm...sorry...." Each word came with a pause after it, uncharacteristic uncertainty that disarmed Dave even more. "I don't know what's...I fucking hate you being mad...." At that point, Dave wasn't even surprised to see a few shaky tears, a waver to Alex's voice that made every phrase dangle helplessly. He wasn't surprised to see Alex be upset, or cry a little, it had just been a long time since he'd really noticed.  
  
Dave crawled onto the bed slowly, settling next to Alex. "It's been a lot...."  
  
"Yeah, it has."   
  
Alex's shoulder blade was sharp under his T-shirt, and Dave rested his hand on it, then slid it up so his palm was on Alex's shoulder. The physical contact shattered another invisible barrier, and there were definitely tears now, dripping down Alex's face and being smeared by his fingertips when he tried to brush them away. Dave had seen this before. He couldn't recall when, but he had, and it filled him with the same sense of awe, to see something that beautiful be reduced to raw emotion. "All right," Dave whispered, putting his arm awkwardly around Alex's shoulders. Alex let himself be pulled into it, and they hugged for a long time, two best mates, the sun comfortably illuminating the rest of the room and the wind outside reduced to a breeze.


End file.
